


Root of the Word

by Luckyfsh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Fighting, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyfsh/pseuds/Luckyfsh
Summary: "For all you talk about humanity, Apollo, you seem to forget the root of the word. Humi- human. Person. Individual. You may talk all you want about the wealth of human sympathy, and our inherent goodness, our ability to care for, and support those in need, but you seem to forget that there are actually people that need to do that stuff. There are people who need to care, who need to give time. Who need to show up.""Okay?""You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"





	Root of the Word

**Author's Note:**

> This if my first work on ao3; be kind.

“You know, I really don’t understand you sometimes.” Grantaire approaches Enjolras after the meeting, sitting down in the chair that normally housed Combeferre, something different smoldering in his eyes; vibrating across the line of his shoulders. Enjolras was used to seeing lust, or admiration-- this was different. Grantaire looked like he wanted a fight.

“What did I do that confuses you?” Enjolras replies easily, looking back at his papers, organizing them into an orderly stack, not the pile they had become over the course of the meeting. In the last few months, Grantaire had begun to approach him after meetings, offering critique and conversation. Enjolras wouldn't say he minded, per say, it was better than having Grantaire interrupt the meeting. And it was nice to see that Grantaire was using all his intellect to actually provide constructive criticism, instead of hiding all his rebuttals under a veil of sarcasm and alcohol. 

It was also nice to be closer to Grantaire, normally they orbited each other, always on the other side of the room. Before Enjolras could count on one hand the number of times he was close enough to touch Grantaire, close enough to see the freckles and specks of paint dotting his hands. Not that Enjolras spend any amount of time looking at Grantaire’s hands. But rarely had Grantaire talked about Enjolras since he had begun this new routine, only ever Enjolras’ ideals. 

However, instead of a simple answer, Grantaire took this as permission to begin out of his famous, rambling, slightly nonsensical speeches.“For all you talk about humanity, Apollo, you seem to forget the root of the word. Humi- human. Person. Individual. You may talk all you want about the wealth of human sympathy, and our inherent goodness, our ability to care for, and support those in need, but you seem to forget that there are actually people that need to do that stuff. There are people who need to care, who need to give time. Who need to show up.” 

Grantaire stopped, looking at Enjolras pointedly. Enjolras stares back at him defiantly. He doesn’t know where Grantaire was going with this, but if he was implying that Enjolras didn’t care enough then, well, Grantaire was the last person on earth to lecture anyone about caring about anything. All he cared about was what liquor was in his glass.

After staring at Enjolras for another moment, waiting for ...something, Grantaire resumes his impromptu lecture with even more anger lacing his words, practically laying on the table for how far across it he was leaning, close enough that Enjolras could clearly smell the wine on his breath. Grantaire was much drunker that he had been in a while.“These ideals of yours, the greatness of humankind, need people, and passion and love to actually happen. You may believe that grand speeches and rallies and petitions are important, but you can’t ignore that more work, most progress happens on a smaller, individual level. And for progress to happen like that requires work every single day, constant pressure and support. But it is clear that you can’t seem to step down from your pedestal to actually look around and do something that would contribute to your cause-”

“What are you talking about?” Enjolras interrupted. He had never seen Grantaire this mad. He had never seen Grantaire express any emotion but melancholy and dumb admiration. And now he was leaning in, speaking passionately, expressing interest-- but only at some sort of failure of Enjolras’. And what, he was accusing Enjolras of not caring enough? Enjolras donated so much money to charity, gave out free legal aid, spent hours upon hours at local food banks, tutoring kids- he cared. There was nothing in the world he cared more about than the betterment of humanity, it was his sole purpose. He looked back across the table at Grantaire, who only showed up to the meetings to heckle, who came to rallies but didn’t do any work, didn’t do anything to help others- he was lecturing Enjolras on how to be a good person, how to help others?

Grantaire stares at him blankly.

“You don’t even know what you did wrong, do you?” He shook his head, messing his hair up more, and stood up, starting to walk away muttering, “Un-fucking-believable, and to think-”

“Hey wait, what did I do?” Enjolras grabbed his hand to prevent him from moving farther away. He was dimly aware that this was the first time that he had ever touched Grantaire, but the thought was pushed away by the irritation at being insulted growing in the pit of his stomach. “In what way am I not aware of people and their needs? Don’t say I don’t give constant pressure and support, you stole that line from me. There is no of humanity that I don’t care about. Although maybe you are simply so unacquainted with the idea of caring about your community that you didn’t realize what it looked like-”

“Holy shit I'm going to have to lay it out for you.” Grantaire shook his head and turned to slump back in the chair he had just jumped out of. He looked tired, all the fight gone out of him. Now the flame was gone from his eyes, Enjolras was able to focus on the bags that surrounded them. Grantaire looked like he hadn’t slept in a week or more. After a beat of him staring at the papers still scattered across the table, he looks up at Enjolras. “No interruptions. Let me lay this out for you okay?”

Enjolras nods tersely.

Grantaire takes a deep breath. “You are great at ‘The People’ Enjolras, but- ‘The People’, ‘The Oppressed’, ‘The Downtrodden’, all those things that you like to write on banners and declaim about, they are composed of ‘people’. Normal people, with jobs and pets and little problems and big problems and frankly, Apollo, you suck at understanding normal, lowercase ‘p’, people. Like-” He pauses, seeming to wait for the rest of the thought to come to him, then gestures around the room. “You know my opinion of all this. I think it's stupid, that writing petitions and calling your députés and whatever will accomplish nothing. But I know that showing up is important. You guys care about this, so I show up to meetings and protests and letter writing campaigns- or I try to. I try to support you guys because I care about you.” He paused again, almost fondly, looking at their friends scattered around the room, oblivious to the conversation happening in the front of the room, drinking and laughing with each other. Then Grantaire turns back to face Enjolras again, the fire in his eyes reappearing. When Grantaire begins to talk again it is tighter, like every word is painful to force out. “ I cannot believe that you, the leader, the one who is always talking about individual involvement, and ‘individual commitment’ are incapable of actually following through. I realize that there is no way you could follow through with every word out of your mouth, but when someone asks you to do that is not an interest of yours and you say ‘that's not important enough for me-”

Forgetting his promise, Enjolras interrupts “Is this about your art? Did you have, like an… exhibit or something? I’m sorry if I missed it, but I don’t remember receiving an invitation, and you can’t expect me to remember every little detail if it isn’t written down.” Enjolras said, and it was true. He did so much, and if Grantaire couldn’t even send him a text so he could put it on his calendar, whatever he had been invited to was likely to get left behind. Sure Enjolras wished he could have gone, now that he thinks about it, Enjolras can’t remember the last time he saw Grantaire's serious art. He went to the senior art capstone in college, were Grantaire had presented a series of portraits of all of the Amis, they had been beautiful. But if Grantaire making this big a deal out of Enjolras not attending something he can’t even be bothered to write an invitation to then, Enjolras refused to feel sorry for it.

“Oh no, Apollo. I don’t even try to invite you to my things anymore, I know you wouldn’t show up, but today, your best friend asked you to come to his thesis defense and you said, and I fucking quote, ‘I don’t think that’d be the best use of my time.’” He pauses again, waiting for Enjolras to acknowledge that it happened, before plowing ahead. “Did it even occur to you that maybe you should make time for your best friend to complete something he has been preparing for almost a decade? It’s a month away Apollo. You can make time. You can move your very important meetings or very important letter signing rally or very important to see Combeferre.”

“Oh”

Grantaire stared at him like he was waiting for something. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

“I mean, yeah” Enjolras resumed fussing with his papers not able to look Grantaire in the eyes. He felt guilty, anxious now, like a child being scolded for not sharing his cookies. He remembered talking to Ferre about his defense, and the tremendous amount of work he had put into it, the days he and Enjolras had spent holed up in their library Enjolras working on a variety of different projects, Combeferre working tirelessly on his thesis. He wanted to go, he knew it was important, but so was everything else he did. He looked back up at Grantaire “When I said I couldn’t go, Ferre was fine with it, Grantaire, he said it’s okay. He understands that I have lots of things to do. And like I said. It’s not like I can hold his note cards for him. I’d couldn’t help him present. My presence wouldn’t do anything for him.”

“Apollo do you listen to yourself when you talk? You don’t need to ‘hold his notecards’, Ferre is capable, but what about smiling at him, or cheering when he's done? This is incredibly hard for him - having to go up and have his research scrutinized, have something he has worked on for years attempted to be torn apart- and having friendly faces in the crowd would do him some good. And god, everyone we know is going, Floreal is going, and she’s hardly ever talked to Ferre and yet you, his best friend can’t take a night off to support him?” Grantaire argued, not getting the point. Enjolras wanted to go. He did. He knew this was important. He just couldn’t. People needed him at the shelter more than Ferre needed him.

“Grantaire, I agree with you, it's important that Ferre has familiar faces in the crowd, but you are all going- and I'm taking time off early to go to the after party, but I'm working at the shelter that night. They need me. I’m making time for him, but I also need to make time for the people I help and yes, Ferre is my friend and I understand that he needs support but he doesn’t need my the way they need me.”

Grantaire wouldn’t stop staring at him. Enjolras wasn’t sure he’d blinked in the last few minutes. His final comment hung in the air like something heavy, like something he’ll regret in the future. Finally, Grantaire broke eye contact, eyes darting around the almost cleared room.“ Enjolras. This isn’t a debate. I am right. I know that you don’t think that I have anything of merit to say. I know you think I am useless but listen. Yes, humanity needs you, but Enjolras what I'm trying to say is there are also humans who need you. Today, Combeferre, tomorrow, Joly, and Bahorel, or Eponine. And while all of us all agree that what you do is important; they are important too. So what, that you made sandwiches for the homeless shelter, if Ferre is too nervous to present well? Then he doesn’t get funding for a project that could help make vaccines cheaper for those same people. If when seeing you in the audience could have inspired confidence? As much as you like to think you are on a pedestal, you also are a pedestal, holding us all up, supporting us.” 

Grantaire, leaned farther across the table, the restraint he had shown slipping- his voice filling with anger. “And you know, it’s bad enough that you aren’t going to attend, that you’ve decided helping make sandwiches to end oppression or whatever is more important, not only are you undermining Combeferre, you're making everyone feel bad for supporting him. As if you doing something better with your time, if they should skip as well, like dear apollo- I head Joly wondering if it was the right thing to give up his shift at the children's hospital, what’s ‘more important’-”

“I get it” Enjolras says loudly- too loudly people are looking over, but he needed to stop Grantaire right now, sentences ago, before he even sat down and began to accuse Enjolras of these things. But it was over now. Grantaire is staring at him and Enjolras could feel his eyes boring into his heart, into his soul, finding every little insecurity Enjolras had about his goodness, his friendships, his power.

Grantaire must have seen something in his eyes, or perhaps he was just tired of pushing.“Whatever Apollo. Think on it. I doubt I can change your mind but think about Ferre will you?” He stands up, and walks out of the Musain, apparently unaware of the wreck of new insight he had left behind. Enjolras pulls out his phone, drafts an email to the homeless shelter and sends a text to Ferre

Enjolras: Hey, it turns out the shelter doesn’t need me. I’ll be able to come. Good luck with last minute prep. I believe in you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading- I might continue this verse, I might not-- I don't really have a plan for it
> 
> If you ever want to cry about these stupid boys you can find me at in-only-love-and-liberty on tumblr.


End file.
